


Kinetics

by runicmagitek



Series: Random-Access Memories [4]
Category: Transistor (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Drug Addiction, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-03 18:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14001825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: A series of drabble prompts about the chairwoman behind the OVC, forever curious and persistent, and her trials and errors along the way.





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> While prompts with Lillian and Amelia as a pairing will pop up, the series as a whole is gen.
> 
> Also keep an eye out for future tags added as chapters are updated, because _Maximilias Darzi_.

Her parents promised she could become whatever she dreamed of, so long as she poured her heart into it. But that was the problem; Lillian loved everything. One instance, she stood awe-stricken before dancers center stage and the next she aimed to replicate a sous chef's cutting techniques. The inability to master every, possible curiosity wore her nerves thin. It wasn't until she cracked open a physics book in class and skipped ten chapters ahead that Lillian began to understand the basic fundamentals found not only in her favorite interests, but all of Cloudbank—the laws which made life possible. 


	2. Accusation

Freshly manicured nails carved into her palms when an arrogant voice spoke over her. It didn't matter if it was a grade school group project or casual chit-chat during lunch amongst friends; everyone spoke out of turn, desperate to waste their breath on frivolous matters. There were more interesting ideas needing to be expressed.

Lillian verbally skewered their throats and deflated their egos. Plenty accused her of being a bitch, but she never flinched. People either flourished or cowered from their truths.  

She inhaled and settled her eyes on the one she was truly interested in. "As you were saying?"


	3. Restless

The knock on her dormitory door almost jolted Lillian out of her seat. Prying herself away from her terminal, she cracked the door ajar. An emaciated man with brilliant turquoise hair stumbled in. 

"Geez, why is  _ every _ room spinning?" he rambled off.

Shock widened Lillian's eyes, replaced by anger the moment he collapsed face first into her bed.

"Excuse you." She jabbed two fingers into his ribs. "This isn't your dorm."

He mumbled through the pillow about how it was. She failed to drag him out, though by then, he passed out. With a sigh, Lillian repositioned him onto his side and returned to writing her paper. She was restless, anyways. Wouldn't be the first time she pulled an all-nighter.

Come morning, Lillian prepped instant coffee as the man stirred with a terrible groan. She begrudgingly passed her water bottle to him. He sat and squinted past messy hair.

"This… isn't my room," he said.

"Nope," Lillian spat out.

"Fuck," he breathed out. "I'm sorry. I—"

"Just buy me a macchiato and we can call it even, mmm?"

When their eyes met, Lillian found him smiling.

"I'm Maximillias, by the way." He extended a hand.

Her lips curled up. "Lillian." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double drabble, because first meeting feels


	4. Snowflake

Snowflakes adorned Amelia's hair when she arrived. Tablets and notebooks sprawled across the window table. Lillian smiled behind her coffee throughout Amelia's passionate thought process.

But the confidence wavered. "If you don't like any of this," she said, "I can change it… or scrap it."

"Don't," Lillian said, perhaps too quickly. "I love it."

And she did. The ideas, the writing, the snowflakes in her hair… and that glow in her eyes upon receiving recognition. Thus Amelia oozed more creative ideas and Lillian ordered them more coffee, content with listening until the cafe closed and the snow ceased to fall.


	5. Haze

She stomached organized chaos on a good day, but Lillian overslept and lacked coffee the morning of her first day at the OVC. She nearly walked out after stepping foot into the boisterous building. Once at her congested cube, a migraine dared to overcome her with nausea and agony. In that haze of pain and confusion, Lillian jotted down ideas to fix the mess that was the OVC. Most people turned a blind eye to unsolicited, additional work and sufficed with mediocre standards, but Lillian Platt was not most people. And someone had to stand up and fix the disaster.


	6. Flame

She opted to drown in textbooks than to accept Max's party invites. One night she opted to attend, dressed more for a cocktail party.

And there Lillian discovered Max hunched over a flame with an unknown substance. 

“Do you... do this all the time?” she asked come morning.

“Do what?”

“You know….”

“Oh,  _ that _ ? That’s nothing.  Don’t tell me you’re some straight edge—”

“Max, I don’t care what you do to unwind, but I worry. You’re… my best friend. I don’t want anything—”

He embraced her, tighter than he ever had before. 

“I’ll be ok, Lil,” he whispered. “I promise.”


	7. Formal

Witnessing Max stress over lack of inspiration was as fascinating as him diving into the whirlwind that was his work ethic. The summer before their final year was spent with fickle and flimsy ideas. Lillian sipped her coffee and Max deleted another file from his terminal. 

Until one evening he nearly pounced her.

“You.”

Lillian coughed up coffee. “I’m sorry?”

“You, my cold and calculating queen, shall be my muse from my graduating thesis.”

Initially, it was ridiculous. Though when Lillian attended his fashion show a week before graduation, she relished the hard geometrical, yet sophisticated and feminine formal gowns.


	8. Companion

Maybe it wasn’t professional to ask. Or maybe it was more painful to receive rejection and continue work as if the interaction never occurred. Each moment Amelia entered her office, Lillian hitched her breath.

And then she asked.

“What are you doing Saturday night?”

The question burned Amelia’s cheeks with blush. “Um… working on editing—”

“Would you like to attend the Innovative Founders Gala?”

“With… _you_?”

Lillian held her breath; she couldn’t fathom any other companion by her side but Amelia. “With me. No reporting. Strictly pleasure.”

She never witnessed Amelia smiling as brightly as she did that precise moment.


	9. Move

She was content with sitting behind a terminal and analyzing data. Who better to do a critical task than herself? Lillian absorbed every ounce of knowledge—out of fear someone else would get it wrong and require her assistance with fixing it. Her persistence and diligence never went unnoticed. Word climbed the chain of command of her deeds and Lillian was rewarded—with new roles, new projects, and in time, an opportunity she never deemed possible. And when she moved into her new office as the OVC’s chairwoman and scanned the content faces before her, Lillian finally breathed easy again. 


	10. Silver

She grew to loathe him. His waiting to the last minute to finalize details, his messy desk, his need to question every damn thing anyone was doing. But coworkers weren’t clones for a reason and Lillian desperately searched for a silver lining. Amidst the cold shoulders and silent treatments, Lillian found someone as passionate and contemplative as she was, never straying from the end goal.

“You used to drive me up a wall,” Lillian admitted one night out for drinks after work.

Asher laughed and raised his glass to her. “The feelings mutual. It’s why I’m happy we’re friends now.”


	11. Prepared

Lillian basked in the quiet, twilight ambiance. Nothing but coffee, the empty sidewalks, and her portable terminal. Others drowned out the world with music, but Lillian craved an intelligent conversation without humoring a social interaction before Cloudbank awoke. Thus she tuned into Wave Tennegan's channel. Lillian relished his ideologies and admired his polite mannerisms. Upon reaching the OVC, she banished her earbuds and prepared for a tedious day, though Wave's wise words echoed in her thoughts. Perhaps one day, if her agenda allowed it, Lillian could attend one of his meet and greets and express her gratitude for his work.


	12. Knowledge

Lillian shoved a grilled sandwich in her mouth, barely tasting it, let alone notice someone looming beside her.

"Mind if I sit here?"

Lillian scanned the woman balancing coffee and pastries in one hand.

"Every table's full, but I won't be any trouble." She lifted her terminal. "Have deadlines to meet."

"Don't mind at all."

She pushed up her glasses with a grin. "Oh, thank you!"

The mutual silence, save for the diligent typing, offered comforting solidarity. It helped when the woman matched Lillian's work ethic, at least from looks alone.

And then she groaned. "I swear, there's not enough coffee in Cloudbank to survive this day."

Lillian smirked. "To my knowledge, that's why there's wine."

The woman cackled. "You too?"

"Monthly operations report due by midnight. I'm pulling teeth to gather last-minute data."

"I hear you. I'm begging for signatures on this ordinance for a new vote. Also for midnight. I might be here longer than lunch."

"Well, if you close shop with me, I know a bar down the street with a good merlot."

The woman smirked and tilted her head. "What's your name again?"

"Lillian Platt."

She extended a hand and Lillian firmly accepted it. "Niola Chein."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double drabble, because reasons


	13. Denial

He never answered her weekend texts or audio calls. Lillian's eyes flicked to her phone every spare moment, waiting for his image and number to illuminate the screen with a response. It remained black and cold all day. She canceled the dinner party with the new interns and ran to the studio apartment in Goldwalk. Lillian procured a spare key from the bottom of her purse, flung the door open, and gasped. 

It wasn't the first time she found him passed out on the floor; it was, however, the first time he didn't wake up immediately. Tears swelled in her eyes, nails dug into his shoulders, and feeble pleas spilled past quivering lips.

"Max," she squeaked out, shaking him like a rag doll, "please, wake up. Come back to me."

A pained grown left him. Heavy eyes struggled to open. Lillian found her breath again and hugged him.

She stayed through the night, despite his resistance. They curled up together on his couch and watched rerun feeds in silence until they fell asleep against one another. Even then, Lillian couldn't discern which was worse: Maximilias' denial in having an addiction problem or her own denial that it would be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double drabble


	14. Wind

Her words were lost to the torrent of wind ripping through Cloudbank. Amelia blinked at Lillian.

"What was that?" Amelia asked.

Another relentless gust combed through Amelia's thick locks until it danced. Lillian smiled and paused on the streets. Other pedestrians paid no attention as Lillian tucked soft strands behind Amelia's ear. She licked her lips and eased in to whisper along her skin.

"Your hair," Lillian said. "I love your hair."

Amelia blushed and stared. A smile broke across her features. They continued walking and Lillian trailed her hand down to the small of her back. Amelia never protested.


	15. Order

Lillian grinned whenever a Bracket design popped up in the polls. She never met the elusive man, but his structures spoke enough of his ideologies. The meticulous buildings crafted by Royce's hands were nothing short of orderly perfection. It was like coming home to a well-organized interior after a tedious day—comforting and familiar. She admired his simplicity from afar in her office's idyllic vantage point. Whenever work puzzled her, Lillian pried her eyes from the monitor and gazed out her window in search of inspiration and motivation. Perhaps one day they'd cross paths and share their secrets to success.


	16. Thanks

Her success didn't flourish overnight, nor did she rise through the OVC alone. Various colleagues trusted her with the most sensitive tasks; Lillian's word was as good as done, after all. She gazed upon tangled problems and found clarity no one else fathomed. That watchful eye of hers kept vigil over the OVC as chairwoman. And it was all thanks to every last individual who believed in her abilities. Had it not been for them, maybe Lillian wouldn't have ever gained the chance to prove to them—and all of Cloudbank—that she was the one fit for the job.


	17. Look

"I've  _ never _ seen you wear the same outfit twice." Amelia gestured to Lillian. "Nor is any of it available at any boutique. Do you have a personal designer?"

She tried not to laugh. Of course Amelia noticed Lillian's effort in her everyday looks. Lillian dropped the name of her beloved friend  _ and _ renowned fashion designer. Amelia almost dropped her coffee.

They missed their weekly meeting, let alone discuss work. Hard not to when both squealed over fashion trends and upcoming runway shows. And when Lillian promised front row seats to Max's next show, she wished she photographed Amelia's priceless expression.


	18. Summer

The blistering heat didn't dissuade them from a stroll in the newly implemented park. Even in the shade, the sun sifted through leaves and kissed Amelia's bare shoulders. She wore Max's design, one that Lillian gifted her—a chic saffron sundress with a halter top and scoop neckline. It suited her. Holding her breath, Lillian enveloped Amelia from behind and soaked up the warmth. Their fingers linked and Lillian followed the sun's example by kissing her shoulders. Her mouth trailed up her neck until they both locked lips and melted into one another, blazing stronger than all of summer combined.


	19. Transformation

They met in between deadlines and conference calls for wine or coffee. Niola contrasted Lillian's cold, analytical eye with warm charisma while Lillian's data bolstered Niola's campaigns. Two sides of the same coin working together to strengthen Cloudbank.

"You ever wonder what would fall apart if you hadn't stepped in?" Lillian asked one night.

Niola laughed and adjusted her glasses. "I used to. All the time." She raised her drink. "Then I met you. So here's to something new—a transformation even the polls won't erase."

Lillian grinned and tapped her drink against Niola's. "A transformation no one will forget."


End file.
